


blood_compact

by allsovacant



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: / birthday gift fic: Happy Birthday Blue! /, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Character Turned Into Vampire, M/M, Vamp!lock, Vampire Sherlock, Violence, cannibals, rush fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 06:25:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allsovacant/pseuds/allsovacant
Summary: Out on his usual rounds, Vampire Sherlock Holmes meets the living ghost from his past.Bound by the promise he made, a chance encounter changes their lives forever.—unbeta'ed—





	blood_compact

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluebuell33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluebuell33/gifts).



> This is a gift work for one of the best persons I've ever had the chance to talk to. No words can express how much the friendship you've offered meant to me. Thank you so much for everything. I hope you'll like this, Blue! Many Happy Returns!

  
The moon was exceptionally bright that night making the streetlights look like little stars on the ground. It was the most breathtaking thing a human could see. The busy streets of London were enveloped by a fog caused by the rain earlier that day.

 _It's going to be another cold night._  
John Watson thought.

He was standing at the pavement outside the café he frequented, while holding a cup of take-away coffee, sipping the warmth of it while waiting for a cab. Prepped on going home after working long-hours of shift from a small clinic, he tossed his empty cup on the bin. He was more than ready to be in bed soon.

Or so he thought, for he's unaware of the battle that is about to occur and change his life forever.

 

###

  
John was about to round the corner when his attention was caught by something—or someone, rather. He could tell it was a man. A figure standing on the rooftop of one of the local shops. A tall figure draped in black coat. The back of the coat swaying along the night breeze. John walked closer as he was drawn by the mop of raven curls being ruffled by the wind. The figure's gaze was focused on the dark horizon before him.

Then the man tilted his head upwards, as if surveying the moon. And somehow John thought how erotic that move was. Stirring something buried deep within him. Even the tranquility of the man's movements made John's heartbeat uneven.

The man was beautiful.

Just like that, silently watching the moon.

John has never been this mesmerized all of his life. But of course, he should do something. What could possibly cause this beautiful person to end his life? He'd never want to see such beauty to go wasted on the pavement. Shaking his head lightly, he braved himself and called out.

###

Sherlock Holmes is standing at a five-storey abandoned building, watching the streets of London with caution. As an elite member of an organization known as the Secova (the Secret SoCiety Of Vampires and creatures) his duties include being a guard, much to his dismay.

Just then the smell of dried blood reached his nose. He moved quickly to a lower part of the building and surveyed the moon then the horizon before him.

  
_They getting nearer then—good._ He thought. It's better to wait for the creatures to arrive than to chase them.

Fortunately, the streets are almost empty.

But before he could do anything in a rush, he needed to go back immediately to their HQ to report. He crouched down in one knee to prepare himself for executing shadow travel, when all of a sudden, a firm voice bellowed to him.

"DON'T!"

His head snapped at the source of the voice. It was full of human emotions—anger, confusion, worry, sadness, and panic. When he looked further down the road, he saw—him.

A small built of a man with a short blonde hair streaked with grey. Of course he knew. He knew everything about the man. He has watched the man's generation with interest since that last time. When he was _turned_. He lost track of them but now he's on his trail again. Protecting and fulfilling a promise five hundred years ago. _"I will protect your family, until it's my turn to fade."_

Sherlock deduced the man. Still wearing a brown jacket under a ridiculous wool jumper. Mm?

But a doctor now? No. No. Not just a doctor. An army doctor—interesting. The previous one was an alcoholic and abusive one. But this one, the son. Sherlock knew this one's different.

He was pulled from his thoughts by the man who was now slowly walking towards him. A hand held up offered to him as if he could be saved with those—and even if Sherlock decided to jump, he wouldn't die. He couldn't.

Once again he looked far away, and then back at the man.

There's still time— Mmm... Maybe he could play for a bit.

Hiding his smile, he let his former human side take effect on his face. He showed feelings. He straightened not breaking away from the man's gaze.

"Whatever it is you're going through... We can talk about it—but please! Just.. just don't jump!" The man's voice was pleading. And Sherlock couldn't help but be enthralled. So again, he played along.

"Leave me alone."  
He said in a low voice that he doubt the man could've heard. He faked a sad expression and turned away.

"Please, just come down and we'll talk—"

And then there it was—faster than the speed of light.

Sherlock's senses alerted as his whole body vibrated in excitement. His mind catalogued what's about to happen. But he became confused, something was wrong. And that's when he, learned what has gone wrong.

A strained grunt below caught his attention and he saw the man with the short blonde hair stepping back from a group of three—their archnemesis—cannibals.

Disgusting. Lewd. Humans that got turned into flesh-eating monsters by force. And the one behind it was still unknown. And Sherlock's kind, the Vampires of London among other shapeshifters had entered a truce and be united to destroy this particular kind.

One of the three circled the short man, and he felt the urge to protect him. As usual. Sherlock hissed, his sharp fangs shone under the moonlight. Having no choice, he jumped from the rooftop and perched in the windows until he could go down.

In three swift calculated movements, Sherlock kicked the three cannibals in their faces until they were thrown away to the rusting metal gate of the old building.  
He smirked and surveyed what he had done. A congratulatory celebration should be prepared later maybe with the blonde—

A strained gasp of breath turned Sherlock's insides in horror as he sees the man being bitten on the shoulder by a fourth stronger cannibal. The one who transfers their saliva to their potential victim to be changed.

Just like a vampire.

Sherlock spat on the ground in disgust. He have no choice. This menace should be killed. Perhaps it wasn't too late for the blonde man to be helped by him.

Unsheathing a bronze dagger from his coat pocket, Sherlock threw it on the cannibal's direction. And before any of them blinked, the dagger stabbed the third to the heart.

The cannibal fell to his knees and Sherlock watched as the creature crumpled and melted into a pool of goo.  
Then he rinsed the dagger with his own blood as per tradition and returned it back in its sheath, tucking it away inside his coat pocket.

He sensed the air of any kind of threat, fortunately finding none—he ran to the blonde man's side. Fresh and dried blood mixed almost made him dizzy. He composed himself taking the man's face with his hands. The shoulder wound was bad. Sherlock had lived long enough, fought a lot of these vile creatures  to come to the conclusion that the wound was uncurable in a human way. _Last resort then._

"I need your consent. I NEED to save you. Do you hear me?"

He nudged the man's face firmly as more blood spurted from the mouth. The man's blue eyes became unfocused. Sherlock knew he's losing him. The man will die—

"Please! You are going to die! If you want me to save you, you already know what I could do!"

Sherlock panicked. The man's eyes were drifting to close. Skin going pale, lips going blue. No. This can't be happening—time is running out. But then to his surprise, the man reached out for the back of his neck dragging him down, weakly, closer and that's when Sherlock heard it. A weak permission and submission.

" _Yes."_

He pricked the skin of his wrist using the dagger's tip letting the blood trail to the man's open lips. The blonde closed his eyes as he swallowed down Sherlock's blood.

 _'What's your name?'_ Sherlock asked using his mind, as his crimson blood continued to drop.

The change will be painful, but Sherlock would still be there beside the man.

Like he _always_ did. _Always_.

_'My name is John.'_

Around them, London once again has been enveloped with fog. Hiding the remnants of a battle. And hidden inside it are the monsters no one knew ever existed. But it's only a matter of time when they will stay hidden.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the continuous support!  
> 


End file.
